My earliest childhood memories are from the time that my family lived in Westerville, Ohio. Westerville is a suburb of Columbus. My father taught at Ohio State before we moved to Fredonia and he took a teaching position at FSUC. The name of the street was Oak Hill Drive. The subdivision that we lived in had kids of all ages in it, including youngsters the same age that I was and the same age that all six of my siblings were. The neighborhood was filled with colorful characters, both child and adult. I have wonderful memories of Westerville and especially of the girl next door.

Her name was Lita. We were the same age but our families were very different. Lita was an only child. I am the youngest of seven. Lita’s parents were much younger than mine. As an only child, Lita got all of her parents undivided love, attention and affection. Lita got to do awesome things with just her mom and dad. She didn’t wear hand me downs. She didn’t have to share with brothers or sisters. But Lita had awesome toys that she meticulously took excellent care of and that she was always happy to share with me.

There were other kids in the neighborhood my age. A boy named David and a boy named Scott. My brother Jim is 18 months older than I am. I hung out with them quite a bit but no one came close to the bond that I had with Lita. She looked like Shirley Temple.

Curly light brown hair, lovely round face with big, beautiful brown eyes and a captivating mischievous smile.

Lita was bossy. She used swear words that she overheard her dad saying.

I got in a lot of trouble when I used those same words within earshot of my parents. Lita could get me to do anything. We played with her dolls in the awesome dollhouse that her dad had made for her. Lita had me over for formal tea parties using her amazing plastic kitchen set. We also did other less girly things. We made puzzles together. My favorite was a puzzle of the USA. We put it together dozens of times as we learned the states. I kept that puzzle, missing pieces and all, for almost 25 years. I recently found a puzzle just like it at an antique mall. I just had to buy it.

We played in our sandbox and in the creek and in the giant drainage pipe that went under our street. We hiked the woods that surrounded Oak Hill Drive. Any mischief we that we got into was usually her idea. I had my first kiss with Lita and we played doctor a time or two before getting caught. I may have been a very willing participant in both of those experiences.

Lita was always up for an adventure. Sometimes we would wake up at the crack of dawn and roam the neighborhood before our parents even woke up. We even went right into David’s house one morning and got him out of bed so he could join us in our marauding. It was definitely a different age. No kids today, as young as we were then, would be allowed to free range their neighborhood as we once did.

One summer afternoon I was up the street playing with Scott and David. Lita was flying a kite with her dad. Lita’s mom enjoyed having me over to their house but her father didn’t like having me around during his daddy daughter time. Scott, David and I raced back to my house when we saw the firetruck and the ambulance head that way.

Lita’s kite had gotten stuck in a tree and her dad had climbed the tree in an attempt to get the kite down. Before he got close to the kite, one of the branches he had pulled on broke and Lita’s dad fell quite a ways as he caromed off of several branches before coming to rest on a much lower branch. He was hurt too badly to climb down from the tree himself. As the whole neighborhood watched, he just sort of hung there until the firemen brought him down with ladders and the ambulance took Lita’s dad to the hospital.

Later that evening I overheard my father speaking to my mother in a tone that I had never heard before. He wasn’t angry. He sounded kind of sad. In a voice, that I only recognized another time or two in my life, he said, “He’s lucky to be alive”. “How could he have been so foolish? He should have just gone to the store and bought the kid another kite.” Who would be taking care of his family if he got himself killed over a stupid kite? And now look what he’s putting them through”. Maybe the old man was actually talking to himself and recognizing foolish things he had done as a father that put himself and his family at risk.

Lita’s dad was a good guy but he was a showoff. I had seen him act recklessly. He may have had a few beers before climbing that tree and falling. Lita’s father had some cracked ribs, lots of cuts and bruises and a broken leg but he would be OK. Lita was not around while her dad was in the hospital and we didn’t get to hang out when he was at home recuperating. Shortly thereafter my family moved to Fredonia, New York.

I remember the day we left Ohio for Fredonia. My brother and I looked out the rear window of a green Ford station wagon as we rolled down Oak Hill Drive for the very last time and watched our neighborhood blend into total tableau. I think we were so excited about moving to a new state that it didn’t dawn on us that we would never see all the colorful characters of our neighborhood ever again.

I thought about looking up Lita a time or two over the last 50 plus years. I always thought better of it. What if she didn’t remember me the way I remembered her? What if she didn’t remember me at all? Or worse. What if Lita fell on some hard times or met some tragic end? Why would I want to ruin a perfect childhood memory? Besides, my wife is the beautiful, bossy, smart and sassy woman of my dreams. She captivates me, challenges me and takes me on adventures. I would prefer to think that 58 years later, Lita turned out to be just like my amazing spouse. I am so lucky and blessed to have met, dated, married and made a life with the adult embodiment of my first love. Lita, the girl next door.

Andrew Ludwig is a retired math teacher and a retired public school and Catholic school administrator. He currently works as a substitute teacher in Chautauqua County.